Those Who Favor Fire
by hearthecall09
Summary: "Love is an irrestible desire to be irrestibly desired"-Robert Frost. Her original origins were unknown and her ability to control fire, left many to fear her. Abandoning Saruman and joining Frodo might lead to the downfall of Middle Earth but if she could stare at those blue eyes one more time...there actually might be meaning to all their suffering. LegolasOC
1. With Wisdom Wrought With Borrowed Wings

**So…it has been a really long time since I've updated this story and I'm really sorry. Most of it is the same, just a few changes here and there but if you've read my story before then you probably still recognize it. **

**I left because I was having a hard time getting a solid outline done for this story which eventually lead to me loosing my inspiration and finally gaining major writers block. A few recent reviews and messages from loyal readers has pushed me to come back and I love you for that. It's a new year so why not make finishing this story part of my resolution? **

**I hope all those who have read this from the beginning, come back. And to all those new readers, I thoroughly hope you enjoy my take on a tenth walker story. **

Nimirher wasn't sure how long she had been staring out at the gnarled trees of Fangorn forest. Their twisted branches stretched high reaching towards the blackened sky. The constant smoke that charred the cobbled ground of Isengard, stained their trunks dark with soot. No longer did this forest seem alive. No creatures roamed their mossy floor, no sun shined bright upon their canopies.

What was stirring in this aging world? What dark thoughts tempted the wizard Saruman? The black stallion she sat upon nickered at her and pranced in place. He too wished he could hear the ancient creaking of the walking Ents as they talked in their ancient tongue.

This land grew morbid with dark deeds. Ten years she had traveled alongside the leader of the White Counsel and now she no longer knew who that man was. Saruman grew crazed with an unknown power, spending hours in his counsel room muttering words of a wicked tongue. She knew he obsessed over the Palantiri, seeking images and words from an evil that should've been destroyed long ago. Saruman was no longer a wise wizard but a greedy man obsessed with power.

A strong breeze from the east swept the stench of rotting flesh under Nimirhers' nose. Dipping low against Talagors neck, she urged the horse forward with a light kick to his side and watched as the ground flew by under his swift feet. The sun was already starting to dip below the Misty Mountains, turning the land over into shadow. She leaned forward farther and pushed her horse faster, needing to make it to Orthanc before night fell completely.

Talagor flew through the southern gate, taking a sharp left down the stone tunnel leading himself to his stable. Nimirher hated leaving him down there by himself. He was the only horse housed in the stables and all she could hear through the stone walls was the howling of the wolves caged in dens beneath the floor. Gently moving her horse to his stall, Nimirher dismounted but left his riding gear on. Filling his bin with fresh hay, she left him behind to head to the tower.

She was eleven years old when Saruman took her in. As a baby she was dropped off on the doorsteps of a Gondorian blacksmith where him and his wife took her in as their own, but when she started showing signs of a darker past they no longer wished to care for her. A small child with ancient power was seen to possess dark magic. With Saruman in charge of the White Counsel, the wise man could swept a spell over entire cities. When he was approached with the frightened child, he decided to take her in as his student. The elder wizard had saved her life that day and she would forever be grateful but as time drove on, his intentions behind her adoption grew sinister.

Nimirher ran down the tunnel and up the steps towards the only door adorning the black tower. She had to make it back to her room before he noticed her absence. If she was to escape with Gandalf tonight she had to be swift and silent. She had risked her life climbing those stairs to see his face but she needed answers. Answers to questions that even the grey wizard didn't know.

_ Draped in his normal garb of long grey robes, Gandalf raced towards the tall tower of Isengard. Dark deeds were surely at foot and he needed wise words from his old friend. Dismounting from Shadowfax, Gandalf approached the iron door and wound his way up the steep staircase towards Sarumans' counsel room. _

_ Nimirher knew Gandalf would be arriving in Isengard today and she could hardly contain her excitement. But even as she sat in deep meditation she could hear the heavy footfalls of a troubled man upon the stairs. Jumping to her feet she ran to her door, ripping it open to see Gandalf round the corner towards Sarumans room. She stared in puzzlement at the old man. He never forgot to greet her. _

_ Slowly walking around the corner, Nimirher could already hear the raised voice of Gandalf._

_ "What talk is this? What are you saying Saruman?" Creeping closer to the door, Nimirher waited to hear her teachers answer._

_ "It is time for us to choose. A new age is upon us, a new power is rising. Nothing that Elves or Men or Wizards can do will avail against it. Its enemies are utterly doomed, but its friends…." _

_ She could hear the heavy thud of Gandalfs' staff against the floor as he approached the still form of Saruman, "You are saying that we should join with Mordor? With him?!"_

_ "Does that displease you? Where is the ring Gandalf? Why do the servants of Sauron seek it in the Shire? Have you hidden it there? Would you rather see the Dark Lord have it, or Saruman of Many Colours?" Nimirher stepped back from the door. She wished at that time she could've said she was surprised by his statement. But alas, she would've been lying to herself because that wizard did nothing but speak of dark deeds to the one creature that could bring ruin to Middle Earth. _

_ "Neither of you will have it!" yelled Gandalf. Lightning crackled behind those doors; magic slowly crawled across her skin. She stood no chance against the both of them if things got out of hand. And with the chills that raised along her spine, she knew it would be going downhill very soon. _

_ "There is a third choice. It is to remain here, until you tell me where the One Ring may be found."_

_ "Saruman, if you do this, if you delay me here, Sauron will surely get it then!"_

_ Saruman threw a curse at Gandalf, and a heavy thud slammed against the door, pushing him across the floor. The force of the impact sent Nimirher flying from the metal door, her body slamming into the stones behind her. The wizards were fighting with their mighty staffs and all she could do was listen. Listen as her friend got thrown around by the one man she should've been able to always trust. He no longer fought on the white side. _

_ Bolting down the stairs towards her room, she locked the door and waited. Locks around the tower were useless if Saruman could blast through with a wave of his hand but that false sense of security was all she had. _

_ Leaning against the thin metal, she couldn't get her mind to erase the last words Saruman had said, ' Then he will know his good servants…and his enemies.' _

_ Nimirher knew he would send poor Gandalf to stay captive atop the tall tower. Knowing she could climb up there while Saruman spent his night hours in the cellars of Isengard, Nimirher would plan an escape. The dark shadow was taking over this land and Nimirher would fight against it for as long as she could. _

She waited in her room, her pack by her side, the Elven sword Gandalf gave her strapped to her hip, and all she had to do was wait for the screech of the eagle. She concentrated trying to hear the heavy wings of the large bird but found it difficult through the screaming of orcs below. The constant clinking of metal as they made massive numbers of armor, the tortured screams of the creatures Saruman bred below and the steady chopping of the orchard outside her window were a heavy burden on Nimirhers' mind. How could she have let Saruman get this way? What in his right mind told him it would be a good idea to form a relationship with Sauron? In every thought that ran through her mind, she knew that he would no longer stay loyal to Sauron just like he had no longer stayed loyal to her. He would try to take the power for himself.

It wasn't until the slow creeping of dawn and the disappearance of the orcs underground, did Nimirher hear the call of Gwaihir. Like the heavy beating of a burlap, he beat his wings so fast, pushing himself higher to reach the top of Orthanc. Grabbing her pack, she ran out her door like Sauron himself was at her heels. She would have to trust Gandalf that he would postpone Saruman long enough for her to escape.

Careful not to trip, she was out the door and sprinting towards the stables. Already her lungs burned but she forced her feet to carry her faster.

Mounting Talagor, they flew out the stables in steady haste. No longer would she have to spend her days in a tower, no longer would she have to dwell in a dark land, and no longer would she feel like the weapon Saruman had been training her to become. Gandalf would help her hone her abilities, and she would use them to defeat the evil forces in Middle Earth.

Overhead passed the great shadow of Gwaihir with Gandalf upon his back. Nimirher would meet him in Rivendell.


	2. Hear the Rhythm of Your Fear

It had been days since Nimirher had left her previous life behind. She had been traveling south along the Misty Mountains towards the Bruinen river, racing to make it to the land of Elves. She took as few of breaks as she knew they could handle before falling from exhaustion. They needing to put as much space between them and the wizard as possible. Sauron only knew how far his magic could reach; she took no chances.

Night was beginning to fall and her horses strides were starting to falter beneath her weight. They had left the rock coverage of the mountains just a couple days ago; they would have to camp amongst the dense trees and underbrush along the river.

She had expected to run into at least one band of orcs once leaving Isengard but she had no such luck. She could've used the stupid creatures as a distraction. Taking her frustrations out on them might make her feel better. Saruman had either not noticed her absence or just didn't care because they hadn't been tracked since the night they ran. She was leaning towards the not caring theory more.

Having sat by their campfire for a couple hours now watching the sun sink lower beyond the horizon, she spent an inordinate amount of time considering her relationship with the bastard. Sure he had taken her in when no else would but in all consideration, all he had done was train her. It was Gandalf who had shown her the way of the blade and given her her first blade. Gazing from the dancing flames to Talagor grazing a few meters away. He had even given her the beautiful stallion. Gandalf had felt like the father she had never had.

Rising to unravel her bedroll, Nimirher would have to get some rest if she was to head out at first light. If Talagor and her rode swiftly, they would be walking in Rivendell by sunset. Placing her bedroll closer to the fire to keep warm, Nimirher drew the sword from her waist and set it by her side. She hadn't been followed but if Gandalf had taught her anything it was to always be alert and prepared for danger.

A sharp scream pierced the night scaring both her and Talagor. Leaping to her feet she ran forward trying to steady her horse. Even as he reared back on his legs, she could clearly see his eyes wide with fear. He recognized evil for what it was but she was the only one who knew that call….Ringwraiths. They were hunting and she knew they would not give up before they caught their prey.

Muttering a quick incantation, the flames extinguished immediately smothering the pair within a dark cloud. Still reciting quiet words for Talagor, she gathered their gear and began to mount and ride out. These woods were no longer safe with those monsters aground. _'Why are they hunting in these woods?' _thought Nimirher.

Kicking her feet into Talagors' flank, the horse took off like lightning. With his swift feet he dodged through the woods easily, leaping over fallen logs trying to put as much space as possible between them and the raging demons. Unfortunately the heavy feet and sharp breathing from Talagor couldn't mask the shrill cries of the dark riders behind them. They were approaching even faster, covering too much ground behind them. Speaking softly into her horses' ear, she encouraged him to run faster. Swinging his head wildly in agreement, Talagors' legs pumped even harder driving them farther into the overgrown trees.

Nimirher hadn't felt fear much in her life but she was frightened now. Gandalf had told her the stories of greedy men who had let darkness bind their souls. They did all of Saurons' biding without question.

Her horse grew more erratic wanting to escape the fell clutches of the dark riders behind them. He finally pushed through the tree coverage heading towards the safety of the Ford. Snorting violently, Talagor could sense the Wraith riding upon them. Grabbing her sword, Nimirher had enough time to block the first blow of the rider before another rode up on her other side. Swinging her weapon high she stopped the blade above her head before swinging her leg out and kicking the Wraith away. They had only thirty yards to cover before they would be safe but it would seem the dark riders would do anything to prevent that from happening. Once she had kicked one rider away she was back to swinging her blade against another. Her movements were quick and calculated to avoid the stinging pain of a Nazgul blade.

The Nazgul screamed again using their horses to form a tight circle around Nimirher. Jerking her reins tight, she steered Talagor into the chest of one causing it to buck wildly and fall back behind them. Steering through the gap that was left behind, they pushed ahead of the Wraiths once again. Readying to use her blade once again to defend herself, she swung around too late to deflect a swing from another, receiving a swift slash across her back.

Yelling out from the unexpected pain, Nimirher did not notice the sound of splashing water as Talagor crossed the Ford into Imladris. Turning around she watched as the group of dark riders dropped into formation heading back in the direction they came from. Sheathing her sword once again, Nimirher dropped forward against Talagors' neck and let him carry her the rest of the way.

* * *

><p>Some people describe pain as a burning hot fire racing through their body. Or of pins and needles that dance upon their limbs making it impossible to think for themselves but Nimirher felt neither of those things. Her body went numb and passed to unconsciousness within moments of crossing that Ford with Talagor, not knowing if either of them would make it to Rivendell.<p>

She wretched in pain, her nails digging into her palms from clenching her hands so tight. For so long, she had seen nothing but darkness, her back numb to everything but the simple sway of her horses back. Now the darkness wished to consume her. Her body raged with fever, her forehead beaded with sweat and nothing but muddled words could be heard from her weak lips. Winding its way closer to her heart, the broken shard of morgul blade wished to take her soul and consume her completely. Endless hours it seemed, maybe even days, that Nimirher wished for death to take her. The pain lasted far too long, she no longer gave the darkness the pleasure of hearing her scream.

Voices…their soft, sweet chimes filled her ears. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Nimirher could feel gentle hands upon her back. A bright light burned before closed lids and the black curtain that had shrouded her eyes for so long, began to lift.

"Your fever has gone down my dear, and your color is returning." Slowing opening her eyes, Nimirher slammed them shut once again, wincing in pain from the streaming sunlight. She could hear the familiar chuckle of the wizard beside her as his weathered hand grasped hers.

Smiling in spite of her weakened state, Nimirher tried once again to open her eyes. Turning her head to the side, she slowly opened her lids to see the smiling face of Gandalf. "What happened to me, Gandalf?"

The old mans smile faltered, grabbing his hat from atop his head he laid it down beside her bed. "You were cut by a Morgul blade when you were running from the Nazgul. Elronds' sons Elladan and Elrohir, found you passed out on Talagors' back when they were patrolling the border and brought you here to Rivendell. They saved your life."

"I will need to thank them," sighed Nimirher. Her strength was still weak but she could feel it returning, "What was the Nazguls' business so close to the land of Elves?"

Picking himself up from the chair he had been sitting on, Gandalf made his way to the door. His back more stooped than she had ever seen it before. Great troubles worried this old man, more than he wanted to tell her at the moment. "I'm afraid that is something I must discuss with Lord Elrond but there is someone else that also needs my attention right now. Once your strength returns, I will tell you my child."

Ten days she laid unconscious under the care of the elf maidens of Rivendell. Once she had awaken, her everyday routine was limited. Breakfast with Gandalf, a few minutes upon her balcony for fresh air and then she was back to bed to wilt away from boredom. Elves watched her door morning and night, making sure she did not wander away. That detail Nimirher was sure had come from Gandalf, knowing full well she would grow bored enough to wander off on her own. Her strength returned stronger everyday and her back continued to heal with the daily applications of herbs.

Through constant badgering of Gandalf, she had stayed bed ridden for seven days but she was at her wits end. Morning light shined brightly into her room, awakening Nimirher from her nightmare. The evenings spent listening to the songs of the Elves outside her window, the soft chattering of the elf maidens in the gardens below and the constant lack of evil in Rivendell, weren't enough to keep Nimirhers' nights peaceful. Every night she relived her abandonment of Saruman and her run from the Nazgul, only to wake up, sweat covering her body and her back searing with an invisible fire.

Slowing rolling over onto her side, Nimirher stood up from her bed. Too many days she had laid comfortably in her soft blankets, she had questions that needed answers. Her clothes lay folded waiting for her on her bedside table. The elf maidens had offered her a gown to use when she was ready to explore Rivendell, but she had kindly declined. She was a wizard and a warrior, and the fastest that she could get back into her old gear the better. Carefully she pulled on her black breeches followed by her boots. Her original white tunic had been replaced with a new one, definitely made better than her original from Gondor. Her vest and jacket were able to be saved through the very skilled sewing abilities of some of the Elves. Both of them were made from dragon hide, and she had always found them hard to leave behind. Slowly she buttoned her vest, wincing slightly when it put pressure on her back, and then slipped her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.

Rivendell was beautiful. It was probably the only thought that constantly repeated itself in Nimirhers' head as she explored the home of Elrond. It was here that she began to understand why so many humans had such a curiosity with Elves. All of them were beautiful, men and women, always gliding across the floor like they could fly. Many could only imagine what it would be like to live forever. To watch their world grow or fall, to have endless amounts of knowledge and to maybe find that one to love forever. She would always wonder if they considered their immortality a gift or curse.

She crossed the bridge heading towards the Gathering hall. She was looking for Gandalf, hoping she could possibly catch him there. She had heard from the Elf maiden that had been caring for her that most of the Elves spent their time occupying that room. They spent many hours conversing amongst themselves, joking and singing tales of a more joyous time.

She found herself walking down a covered walkway, lined with stone pillars very much resembling the trees that hide this beautiful fortress from prying eyes. The autumn leaves blew swiftly across the stone floor, crunching beneath her feet as she walked. Turning the corner, she ran into both Gandalf and Lord Elrond deep in conversation. Stopping abruptly she felt embarrassed on walking in on such a private conversation.

Clearing his throat, Elrond ended his talk with the wizard to greet Nimirher, "Good morning Nimirher, I'm glad to see you up and walking around Imladris."

Smiling she approached both men rather shyly. To be in the presence of such an amazing warrior and elf was something she had been waiting a long time for, "I want to thank you for taking care of me Lord Elrond. I owe your sons a debt of gratitude for saving me."

Bowing slightly to acknowledge her gratitude, Lord Elrond stepped forward placing both his hands upon her shoulders, " My dear child, it was my pleasure to see you back to health and I hope that this wont be your only visit to our home."

Smiling, she nodded her head, "I would love to, thank you."

Nodding his head and bowing slightly towards Gandalf, he dismissed himself. Disappearing around the corner Nimirher had come from, she watched him as he glided away from the pair of them. She honestly didn't know if she would ever be able to stop watching an Elf walk with such grace and poise.

"I know you too well Nimirher. You want your answers." stated Gandalf, breaking her fixed stare she had on Elronds retreating back.

"Please Gandalf, what the hell is going on?"


	3. Quite Is The Fire

Saruman was busy mixing orcs with goblin men, breeding an army to destroy Middle Earth. Saurons' eye was fixed upon every land of Men and Elves, and their fate sat upon the fragile shoulders of a hobbit. For hours, Gandalf sat and talked to Nimirher telling her everything. She had left Isengard, escaping Sarumans' crazed mind to only encounter an even bigger threat.

For the past two days, she had spent all her free time in the company of the four hobbits inhabiting Rivendell. Poor Frodo had encountered a Morgul blade as well. It took him seventeen days to awake from his pain induced coma. By his side was the dear chubby hobbit, Sam. She wouldn't tell any of the hobbits this, for fear of retaliation, but he happened to be her favorite. He was such a dedicated friend, having stayed by Frodos' side the entire time he was passed out waiting for him to open his eyes. Merry and Pippin on the other hand, were definitely the light bearers during the dark times. Their constant bickering over trivial things like the amount of mead they could handle or who had a better singing voice was great to witness for Nimirher. She hadn't been around many people who could be so carefree and happy.

She sat by the fire burning in the Gathering Hall thinking to herself. Gandalf told her a council meeting would take place tomorrow to determine the fate of the ring. Representatives from the race of Men, Dwarves, and Elves would arrive early tomorrow to attend as well. She had managed to convince Gandalf and Lord Elrond that she had an important place amongst that council. There was no way in hell she would be sitting out on something that would decide the fate of their world.

Bringing her hand forward, she placed it within the core of the burning flame before her. She felt absolutely nothing, just watched as the flames licked her fingers. In the years under Sarumans' attention, she had only managed to manipulate fire but not create it. Sure if you gave her a burning torch, she could turn it into a raging forest fire destroying every enemy in site, but having to create fire from nothing seemed like an impossible task. She could never call herself a wizard when her skills lacked so much power.

"A young woman with so many thoughts running through her mind can go crazy." The deep male voice startled Nimirher. Realizing too late her hand was still consumed within the fires' core, she shot to her feet losing control and sending a large fireball in the direction of the bushes outside. Her lack of skill decided to rear its ugly head again, engulfing the bush within is fiery cavern. Cursing under his breath, the man ripped his cloak from around his neck and rushed forward to dissolve the flames. Sighing deeply and cursing Eru, Nimirher raised her hand and closed it tightly in a ball, extinguishing the smoky bush.

The man halted his mad dash, staring in awe at the charred yet flame free shrubbery. Dropping his cloak he chuckled, "Well its good to know you can extinguish something just as fast as you can set it on fire."

"I'm sorry you startled me. Who are you?" asked Nimirher.

The man turned around, giving her a chance to take in his full frame. He was a very tall, attractive man, obviously older than herself, but attractive none the less. All the way from his tunic to his breeches, his body was draped in black. His facial hair showed a man that spent many days out on the road. It still couldn't take attention away from his blue eyes. Walking with a poise she had only seen in Elves before, he approached and bowed slightly, "My name is Aragorn. I am a friend of Gandalfs."

Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Gandalf had told her stories of him as well. He was a brave warrior, but also a man with a higher destiny he wasn't ready for. Last time Gandalf had spoken of him to her, he had been heeding Gandalfs advice and standing guard over the Shire. "Its nice to meet you Aragorn. Gandalf has told me a lot about you."

"And that would be the same for you. You must be Nimirher." He smirked and sat down on the bench she had been previously occupying, "He told me to look for a girl that had a fortune for flame."

Sighing deeply she sat down beside Aragorn, "My mind was wandering elsewhere."

The council was definitely still on her mind. In less than a months time, she had learned that she could no longer trust Saruman for he now ran leagues with Sauron. The One Ring of power was currently resting in a bedroom a few feet from her own, and all she could think about was where her path lied. If Saruman was so easily corrupted, then why wasn't she by his side right now. Being tossed out her Gondorian home had shown her how treacherous her powers could be. Where else did you see fire burning constantly but in the land of Mordor. Had she been meant for something more evil? Was there a plan for her that Gandalf and Elrond had not seen? It had been so easy for her to walk away from the life she had known for ten years and embrace the company of people she had only just met. If there was a bigger story for the tiny hobbit sleeping a few feet from her room, why couldn't she?

Aragorn nodded and scratched his chin, "I remember many years ago when Gandalf paid me a visit and told me of a young girl that had been taken in by a friend of his. She had been shunned by others. Shewas quiet and reserved, hating the company of people in the beginning. Yet, she had somehow managed to set his cart on fire,"

Nimirher stopped breathing for a moment and slowly let out a chuckle. She remembered that day. It had been the third time Gandalf had come to see Saruman and the third attempt he had made to be friends with her. She had been so angry. She couldn't understand how people she had known since birth could just give her up but someone she hardly knew, was trying so hard to become her friend. Eventually over the angry inner dialogue of a ten year old girl, she had somehow managed to overreact and set his cart on fire.

"And in that short visit, he told me that he had just met one of the most gifted young women he had ever seen but she knew so little of what she was capable of."

Aragorn finished his speech to stare at Nimirher. She had gotten lost in his words; her stare fixed upon the core of the fire.

She hadn't known Gandalf had so much faith in her. She had fought so many inner battles, wondering why she was the only one with her powers. For too long she had been fed to think she was only capable of pain and destruction. There was no rebuilding a quiet peaceful world with her, she was a weapon. Meant to take the world down and beg on their knees. "Why are you telling me this?"

Aragorn placed his hands gently on her shoulders turning her to face him, "You fight hard within yourself. I can see it in your eyes but you are strong. You have refused his influence thus far. Gandalf will not let you fall to darkness."

Nimirher stared in disbelief at the man in front of her. He held wisdom beyond his years in those eyes. She had never met this man before in her life, and yet he could read her like an open book. "And what if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are strong enough but you need to believe that. You will prove it to yourself in time. Gandalf holds much faith in you. And so do I." Removing his hands from her shoulders, he stood to pick up his cloak, "You should have no worries for tomorrow."

Aragorn gave her a crooked grin before slowly making his exit from the room, "Aragorn, wait!"

Pausing in his strong strides, he turned around giving her his full attention. Nimirher stood from her seat to walk towards him. Her steps felt so much lighter, no longer heavy with the burden that had been burying its way in her mind. Stepping up to him and placing her hands on his shoulders like he had just done, she smiled at him. "Thank you. Friends?"

"Friends."

* * *

><p><em> Smoke pillars floated lazily towards the dark sky. The deep rumble of thunder threatened to disturb the silent surrender of Middle Earth. Her feet stepped silently, slinking through the fallen ranks of men like a snake seeking their next meal. Rage boiled her blood, blurring her vision and dirtying her soul. Fire engulfed her entire body licking her limbs like a quiet lover and her eyes stood black and emotionless. Funny, she thought, they all fought for the same cause and yet they all died for the same reason. Elves amongst Dwarfs, Men amongst Hobbits. Women amongst men. <em>

_ Oh how she had indulged in their game of cat and mouse. Letting them think they actually stood a chance against Saurons' forces and like a dark storm, she swept down upon them raining destruction. Every body fell with a deadly grace, eyes wide in shock and horror as they watched their world burn. She was the burning beacon of hope for Saruman. The old man had chuckled watching the dead fall before her. She hated that laugh, hated that man. He thought he could take all the power for himself; away from Sauron with her help. He had successively honed his weapon, and she would have him down on his knees begging for mercy before the end._

_ The quiet gasps of the dying could be heard throughout the field. The Orcs continued their task of finishing off those that still lived. Driving their skewers through bodies with menacing smiles plastered to their faces. Her feet halted their slow march forward, something gentle grasping her ankle. Turning her fiery head, her black eyes connected with a pair of blue ones. The blonde Elf lay dying amongst the already dead bodies of a dwarf, men and hobbits. He did not beg for mercy, just held her blank gaze. Her soul trembled under his stare. She witnessed the death of thousands, saw children fall beneath the rusted blade of the Orcs and never did her steps falter. Ripping her ankle free from his weak grasp, she backed away slowly, not able to leave his stare. She took three steps before the light finally left his eyes and her entire world crumbled beneath her feet._

Nimirhers' eyes flew open and she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Each grasping breath dragged clawed fingers down her throat burning her lungs. Her limbs trembled as she tried extracting herself from bed. Sitting upon the edge hunched over, she proceeded to cover her sweaty face with her weak palms. It had felt so real to her. She could almost feel the fire feeding along her skin still. She had been so angry. The rage had tasted bitter upon her tongue, the cold fingers of death wrapping its way through her mind. Saruman was right when he thought of her as a weapon. Rage was apparently the missing piece, rage would allow her to reach her full potential.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, she approached the Elf maiden that sat guard outside her room. Upon seeing her pale face, the Elf rose speaking rapidly in her native tongue. Waving her hands hastily to slow the frenzied speech in front of her, Nimirher tried to reassure her she was fine. Using her hands to communicate with the Elf, she tried to show her she would like help in gathering hot water for a bath. The Elf raised her eyebrows in confusion, probably wondering why she wished to bathe at such an early hour but obliged anyway. Denying any assistance from Nimirher, she pushed her back into her room, allowing her to disrobe.

Wrapping the fluffy towel around her body, she proceeded to walk down the hallway that connected her room to the washroom. The white porcelain tub stood alone in the center, held up by the delicate gold claws of the eagle, spitting out generous amounts of warm steam. Dropping her towel, she stepped cautiously into the hot water and sighed longingly when the heat devoured her body. She had hoped the water would help melt away the horrific images that still plagued her mind. Breathing in deep, she allowed the steam to enter and awaken her burning lungs. Staring out towards the balcony doors that stood before her, she could already see the rays of light from the approaching dawn. The beauty of the crisp autumn leaves should have drawn her attention away from her nightmare, but the bright blue eyes of the dying elf would not surrender its hold on her mind.

She had seemed so sure of herself walking amongst the burning dead. Her power had radiated off of her in waves, sending chills down the spines of everyone watching her. Did Gandalf know what she was truly capable of? Wincing slightly from the memory, she tried to push them to the back of her mind. How could a pair of blue eyes completely unsettle her world? She had struggled everyday she had resided in Rivendell wondering where her path lied. Did it lie with the elf with blue eyes? Or was her destiny to bring his life to an end no matter what path she chose?

Nimirher stayed in her hot bath until the water began to chill. Gathering her returning strength, she hoisted herself from the lonely tub and into her fluffy towel once again. Blissful serenity surrounded her as she made her way back to bed; the image of the blue eyed elf lying in the other room. Perhaps the hot water had served its purpose in erasing those grotesque images. They were beginning to chafe her mind and body, dragging out Nimirhers' displeasure.

A tray of fresh fruit sat on her bed awaiting for her return. Unfortunately the fruit went down far too easily and she found herself already dressing for the day. Dawn had finally kissed the walls of Elronds' house, yet still many remained curled up in their beds. Especially the hobbits in which she could actually hear them snoring from their rooms down the hall. Strapping her blade to her waist she made her way outside. Perhaps a quick sparring session with herself would clear her mind.

The luscious trees she passed only helped to remind her of her nightmare further. No trees, no sun, no life, just burnt, charred land crunching beneath feet. Clear skies would not exist in that world, just black thunder rolling constantly through. Sighing deeply, she let out a quiet string of curse words.

She continued her silent trudge through the forest with her head down. Normally having the ability to walk freely through the land of elves and witness the graceful inhabitants would have enthralled her but her soul withered. Once Gandalf saw the haunted stare she now gazed through, he would want to know her troubles. Could she tell him what she saw? Could she confirm his belief in knowing Saruman only wanted her for evil? If the old man had only wanted her for that deed…could she only be capable of such a fate? Aragorn had told her that she had already made the hard decision when she strayed from that path, yet she knew he was wrong. Leaving Saruman was the easy decision and the hardest part still laid bare before her. She would have to gain control over herself or the darkness would consume her completely.

For half a mile she dragged her haunted feet, slowly pulling herself forward. The practice fields loomed before her and already the heavy thump of arrows taking down their targets met her ears. Day and night the guards of Rivendell practiced their skills. Drawing arrows faster than lightening with an even deadlier accuracy, they towered all in Middle Earth with their skills.

Stepping through the protection of the forest, she found herself in a large circle of land completely devoid of trees or shrubbery. There most of been at least a dozen Elves standing completely silent and still before her. Though their attention remained on the solitary objects before them Nimirher knew they sensed her presence. Based upon a breathless and silent cue she couldn't hear, they raised their arms to drew an arrow from their quivers. Drawing their bows tight, they waited for the silent cue once again to release their weapon. Tall and lean, these Elves were formidable weapons; immortal beings that stood motionless and patient for their enemy to draw closer. Jumping back slightly, Nimirher watched all twelve men release their arrows at the same time, hitting the center of the wooden target 100 yards ahead of them.

Finding her skills more appropriate for the play of swords, she walked past the line of Elves towards the other side of the clearing where she wouldn't be in the line of fire. Pulling her jacket off and throwing it to the side, she stripped her baby from its sheath. The sword vibrated humbly in her hand sending shivers up her arm. This sword had been a part of her for so long. It knew all her dreams, all her miseries and it longed to taste the blood of an epic battle. Its strong blade had found the flavor of Orcs satisfying but still craved adventure.

Balancing on her back foot, she launched forward attacking her invisible enemy. Jabbing the blade forward, it found its way into an Orcs belly dropping him quickly. From behind him another charged forward. Brandishing her weapon high, she blocked the swords' attack and kicked her foot forward, pushing him. With the new distance between her and the enemy, she swung her blade high taking his head with it. One after another charged at her, thirsting for her blood and she struck them all down. The flooded thoughts of her nightmare fueled her body, pushing her farther than she had ever pushed herself before.

"A mighty enemy chases you." Skidding to a halt, her sword stuck vertically towards the sky, she turned to face the voice behind her. Aragorn stood alone, hand on his sword hilt and eyebrows raised. "Perhaps you would like a more worthy opponent?"

Dropping her arm to her side, she smirked, 'Cocky wasn't he?' Walking the short distance that stood between the two of them, she measured herself up to the man. Sure, he obviously had height, weight and strength on her but so did most people. Shrugging, she grinned, "Sure, if you think you can keep up."

His crooked grin accepted her challenge. Before Nimirher could brace herself, Aragorn leapt forward, swinging his sword hoping to disarm her. Catching his swift move in the corner of her eye, she backed up a few feet to give her enough room to block his attack. His sword landed heavy upon Aden sending vibrations up Nimirhers' arm and shoulder. He continued to come at her with frenzied speed. She could hardly get a offensive move in when she was constantly trying to defend herself. His body didn't enable him in anyway and he continued to push her back farther towards the tree line. Her jagged breaths ripped from her lungs as she tried to keep his forces back. She would have loved to say she took down the mighty Aragorn, but that would not be the case today. She took two more steps backwards from the sheer force of his sword hitting hers and she found her back pinned against a tree. Dropping her sword, she surrendered to Aragorn.

Slowly lowering his sword, he strapped it back to his waist. "You're a good fighter but you're letting your mind wander too far. It wanders too far and it'll get you killed."

Putting the sword back in its sheath, she made to speak but her feeble attempt was thwarted by the roaring sound of a horn being blown. Turning her head towards Aragorn, she raised a questioning brow.

"That is the Horn of Gondor. The rest of the counsel has arrived." Finding no concern on his face, she placed her hand on the arm he had offered her.


	4. Lost In Thought

It had happened within a matter of seconds. There she was pacing impatiently, something she was commonly known for when she was bored, waiting for the old wizard to acknowledge her presence. Nimirher sighed deeply, Aragorn had been her companion throughout Rivendell that day but he had been drawn away by Arwen. Unfortunately it had riddled her mood with anger and she had spent the better part of the last two hours moping around like a seven year old child. With the lack of sleep and the heavy burden of stress managing to wrap its dark arms around her, she was growing increasing impatient and moody.

Kicking a few pebbles out from under her boots, she gave up her endless internal rant to sit within the beautiful garden outside Lord Elronds' doors. For hours it seemed Gandalf occupied that room. A group of men had already come and gone from their council. And from the great horn that had been tied around the waist of the youngest man, she could only assume that they were the representatives from Gondor.

They took no more than twenty minutes of Elrond and Gandalfs' time but they emerged with empty faces and furrowed brows. They managed to ignore her completely even after she had decided to take up her insistent pacing again. Passing by her, the men kept their heads down discussing pressing matters that continued to frustrate them.

Dwarves surfaced after the men had left. The sight of the short hairy men had stopped every argument she had been battling internally. She had never seen a Dwarf before and she found herself feeling like she was ten again when she knew absolutely nothing of Middle Earth. Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, great Horns of Gondor…these were all new to her. Too long she had been sheltered in the tower of Orthanc with Saruman. Unlike the men that had preceding before them, they had acknowledged her with a short bow and a wave of their hand.

With their heavy steps crowding themselves into Lord Elronds' room, she was left alone once again. And with their departure arrived the internal invasion of endless thoughts in her mind. When she had been walking with Aragorn, she had given herself the luxury of ignoring her previous thoughts, but being alone had made her their victim.

Perhaps it was all just a dream. She had known for years that Saruman could toy with peoples' minds. Maybe the old man thought this was a good way to get back at her for leaving him. Her weak composure would prove him correct if that was his goal. He hit her where it hurt the most, knowing how weak she was in her own power. She would kill herself before she allowed that darkness to consume her. Which path would take her back to Saruman and which would lead her to a life of peace? Maybe her mind had been right to plant that gorgeous face in her nightmare. The blond elf with blue eyes had unearthed her very soul, scorching her heart and leaving her scarred. Every sinner needed a savior and that man had definitely struck a cord of fear in her heart. The blood of Orcs would be all that stained her hands.

Turning around she had planned on grabbing Gandalf to seek counsel with him herself but the sound of the swaying door behind her did not signal the availability of her mentor. Somehow during her thoughtful yet troubled pacing, she had missed the departure of the Dwarves completely and now a group of Elves were being welcomed inside by Elrond. It wasn't the difference in the hair color, the clothing, or even their language that had unnerved her. It was when her brown eyes made contact with the blue ones in front of her.

It's like time had disappeared and left nothing behind to keep her knees from falling to his feet. Air no longer held a home in her lungs and she struggled to pull in jagged breaths. Those eyes weren't supposed to exist, they were only meant to torture her. Scarring her heart when it ripped from her body. Blinding her when she felt the undeniable urge to gaze into his eyes. And shattering all hopes of touching that perfect face. His lips seemed to whisper an endless lullaby…reaching for her….begging for her. She was struggling to grip reality.

Waiting, such a simple gesture and it had spun her world out of focus. His golden head had but barely turned in her direction when she had to grit her teeth against the fierce attack of memories. The blue eyes stared at her with an emotion she couldn't place. A sickening churn of her stomach reminded her when that face was lost to her forever. She remembered listening to her chest, listening as the beat that no longer existed. He had been her beating heart and with his last breath he ripped it clean from her chest, taking all the memories of their undying love.

She whipped around violently, her body contorting painfully as she gripped the bark of the tree for support. 'Ugh, this is stupid,' thought Nimirher as she braced her forehead against the rough skin of the elder tree. Her pacing would not save her from this situation. Too long she had used her shuffling feet to hide the true emotions that stirred just beneath the surface. Even they couldn't keep the swift wind from blowing away every ounce of composure she had left.

The quiet murmurings of the Elves broke through her delusion. Silent they had been moments before but now they seemed impatient and irritable. A trait very unlike any Elf that roamed Middle Earth. Puffing out every breath she had kept trapped behind her clenched teeth, she prepared herself to turn around and fight the temptation to wither beneath his stare.

Turning around had proved a challenge as her stiff neck creaked, pulling muscles along her shoulder. Deciding her limbs would abandon her, remaining limp and useless, she kept her arms braced in front of her seeking, solace against the coarse bark.

Blue met brown yet again. The lean form of the blonde Elf stood silent by Elrond, his stare melting into her soul. The hushed whispering and exaggerated arm gestures of the other Elves with him couldn't break him from his stance. Without the gentle breeze blowing his long hair, he could resemble a statue, stuck in a timeless moment without emotion.

Nimirher had dropped the hold she had on the tree and turned fully towards him. He stood but thirty yards from her, frozen just like herself. No emotion crossed his face. Nothing but pain and anguish revived violently within her. Why did he just stand there? Why stare at her? She began to anger, it bubbled close to the surface ready to spill over. Did he not realize that he was drawing a crowd? Did he not sense the anxiety rooted so deep within her? He wasn't supposed to exist, he wasn't supposed to be staring at her now alive with a strong beating heart.

Her hands twitched by her side wanting so badly to touch him, to run her fingers through his silken hair, to feel his body pressed tightly against her own. He could have suffocated her with his strength as he held her and she wouldn't have cared.

She would kick herself later when she could draw her eyes and body away. She'd realize how silly and stupid she must have looked staring dumbfounded at the man. She'd realize how weak she would be if she let this fetish rule her every thought and every move. It was that last thought that shook her foundation, pulling her out of her reverie.

She found herself alone. Apparently his companions had managed to snap him out of his daydream far sooner than she had awakened herself.

Alone…the breeze swept leaves across her still feet….alone…the sun began its slow descent below the walls of Rivendell….alone she stood heartbroken and confused.

****I know this is a considerably shorter chapter than normal but I wanted this one to stand on its own. Many of you may not believe in love at first sight, I can be one of them, but for my story, it's an important factor. **

**Fate and Destiny play interesting roles in the books and I wanted to explore that possibility further.**

**I hope you all still enjoy what I'm trying to portray here. **


	5. When the storm ends

There were so many eyes; drawing the string of male masculinity tight. Several pairs stared at her, questioning and beseeching her presence. She was finding it difficult to keep her head focused forward while they internally interrogated her. . The overwhelming urge to run attacked her weary muscles but she refused to let the insecurities win. Why did she affirm such attention? It wasn't like she was invading upon the "Secret Men's Club." Nope. In fact, she had been invited by Lord Elrond and Gandalf. So why did she feel so out of place?

Taking her seat next to Gandalf proved to be more difficult than she originally thought. Aragorn sat across from her, friendly smile still held firmly in place, which in return earned him a bright smile. It was a different set of piercing orbs sitting somewhere to her left that threatened to break her. Her trembling fingers dug into her clothed thigh, needing something to hold onto. Taking short breaths, Nimirher refused to turn her head in the direction of the ill fated elf from earlier. She could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of her head more than anyone in the entire circle. His specific male signature was uniquely him and she was drawn to it. Sighing loudly as Elrond began to address the council, Nimirher dropped her head to her quivering fingers . Her head was throbbing and lack of sleep was finally taking its toll on her. It was becoming considerably harder to concentrate on the meeting when she could feel the damn elf staring at her. She winced sharply as she felt the blunt tip of Gandalfs' elbow ramming into her ribs.

"Lady Nimirher?"

Looking up she made immediate eye contact with Elrond. A man's eyes was the gateway to his soul; something Saruman had always told her. What did the eyes around her mean? Aragorn was strong; Elrond, wise; that Gondorian man, greedy; the dwarf, amused; Frodo, afraid; Gandalf, brave; and that elf, lost. Losing herself to the idea of peace in this tortured haven would surely drive her crazy. Cursing herself for not paying attention in the middle of the testosterone zone, Nimirher met Lord Elronds' quizzical stare. "Lord Elrond?"

"Is it true that our allegiance with Saruman is no longer in existence?" She had known the reason for Gandalf asking her to join the Council, but to hear of Sarumans' betrayal again was still so fresh to her. He had been such a wise wizard, a man of many words, and he had fallen to evil so easily. Glancing between Gandalf and Elrond, Nimirher couldn't help but imagine if they could too fall victim. Their world would certainly become a place of great sorrow and pain if great beacons of hope refused to shine.

"I'm afraid so, Lord Elrond." The entire circle hissed, making her shudder involuntarily with the force. Being the bringer of such grievous news apparently didn't sit well with the men. The Gondorian men whispered furiously amongst themselves while the dwarfs continued to point jaggedly at the group of elves, who seemed to be the only silent ones.

Using his hands to demand their silence and complete attention, Elrond looked upon the group of individuals gathered. Their world now stood upon the edge of a blade and difficult decisions had to be made. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate-this one doom," Elrond gestured towards the empty pedestal before them, "Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

Nimirher looked to her right where Frodo was seated. Sweat collectively sat upon his furrowed brow. The poor hobbit was suffering greatly. She knew what lied within his coiled hand, a deceitfully beautiful monstrosity. His eyes were glazed, seeming to be fixed upon a future no other could see. Placing a gentle hand upon his elbow, she coaxed the pitiful creature forward.

She was perplexing. She was ordinary, certainly not considered someone of exceptional beauty amongst his kind. Her brown hair was untamed; waves intertwined looking windswept against her shoulders. She definitely stood taller than the annoying dwarfs but her stature was quite stout, barely reaching to his chest while she stood. Her eyes were another story though. They too were quite ordinary, being a plain brown, but there was something there. Legolas had been trying to figure out all afternoon why she affected him so. Maybe it was those eyes, so full of power and grief. There was something fateful about her; a future of immense pain emulating from her very soul. He couldn't seem to pry his gaze away from her.

Cursing inwardly, Legolas made himself look away towards the ranger across from her. He hadn't seen Aragorn around these parts in some time; seemingly odd for a man that was in love with an elf maiden. Legolas's head tilted curiously when he saw Nimirher share a brilliant smile with the ranger. 'Interesting,' thought Legolas. Aragorn didn't garner affections easily when it came to making new friends. He spent most of his days in the presence of unwashed and wanton men, when did this young girl grab his attention? He certainly found it entertaining when she dropped her head rather harshly into her palms. What grabbed Legolas's attention wasn't the share of friendly affection between her and the ranger, but the angered glare of Boromir. His gaze held nothing but hostility towards the her and that infuriated him. Legolas let slip a growl between his pierced lips, begging his inner animal to be released. A throat clearing across from him brought Legolas back to reality. Aragorn was staring at him, bewildered. God he was losing his mind. He dropped his gaze, refusing to make eye contact with the one man that could decipher every lie leaving his lips.

"Nimirher?" Now that drew his attention back to the mysterious girl. So he finally had a name to label her. Her head was still being cradled within her trembling palms, possibly holding together an aching head. She seemed so young to him, too young to realize the emotions that continued to stir his soul. How would she react if she knew she could stop his heart with a stare? Holding his breath, Legloas waited for the one thing he had been longing to hear. Her voice.

"Is it true for us to assume that our allegiance with Saruman is no longer in existence?" Now that was interesting as well. How could such a young girl know of these issues? She definitely kept adding character to the personality he was trying to put together in his head. He could imagine the innocent girl before him hiding behind her brown locks if he made any advancements towards her. Her melodic voice, holding her vulnerability, being swept away by strong winds. Her hands would twist amongst themselves if she were to make a difficult decision. Legolas chuckled to himself. Why would he feel such curiosity for a creature like her? She seemed so fragile and young, someone not suited for an elf like him. He had lived for many years, seeing wars and peace, two variables her undeveloped eyes had not seen.

"I'm afraid so, Lord Elrond." Legolas groaned inwardly, causing his companions to glare in his direction. Waving his hand to dismiss their stares, he took a deep meditating breath to calm down. He had been wrong to assume such innocent qualities in her. Her voice held pain, suffering, unspeakable notions left to the imaginations of the others around her. Sitting in such close proximity to her made him blind. Every enunciated word that had left her lips, left him falling, sending shivers down his spine. Vulnerable? Possibly, but weak? He hadn't even been close. Power seemed to crawl lazily across her limbs, licking imaginary possibilities in her eyes. Her eyes held him prisoner, her soul sought his, and her body begged for everything that he was. She would be the death of him before this was over.

"Bring forth the ring, Frodo." Legolas paused the inner battle with his sanity to watch the fragile hobbit approach the pedestal. Setting the tiny ring down, Frodo sighed with relief before taking his seat next Nimirher once again.

An ancient evil swirled lazily within the golden core. Thunder seemed to roll towards them, telling dark tales of an old age. An old age that was upon them once again. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: Your doom is at hand. Isildur's Bane is found."

Boromir took calculated steps towards the pedestal, his hand outstretched to touch the cool surface. His fingers twitched rhythmically with the chanting chorus of an old tongue. Legolas gripped his chair, trying to hold on to humanity as the ring burned maliciously. Nothing good would come from this.

"Boromir!" Elrond leapt quickly from his chair preparing to stop the man from reaching his prize but he hesitated. The power of the ring called to the strong elf lord. The rash decision to frighten the Gondor lord fell upon Gandalf. The tall wizard stood tall, shadowing all in his wake, muttering the dark words of our failing lands.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!" spoke Elrond. His words not as strong as they could be, his muscles still quivering with the effect of refusing the ring.

"I do ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be hear d in every corner of the West. The Ring is altogether Evil!" Gandalf took staggered steps back into his seat, seeming to have scared the young Gondor man for now. Nimirhers' gaze was fixed upon the ailing wizard next to her, her eyes a wash of desperation. Legolas watched as she placed a gentle hand atop Gandalfs' weakened ones, comforting the tired wizard.

"It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" The elfs' stare was drawn away, a very much revived Boromir striding forward. The men of Gondor didn't seem to understand the fragility of the situation. Fractured fragments of their lives were slowly falling apart as Saurons' forces grew stronger. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master." Aragorn spoke, staring down Boromir.

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Legolas could no longer keep his mouth shut. His soul still called for the trees of Mirkwood, called for the soil beneath his feet and wind through his hair. It was men like Boromir that had led to the continued existence of that evil and it was about time someone raised the stakes, smoking out every lie and illusion. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

All turned to stare at the impressive height of the elf before them. Their race had remained considerably silent the entire council, deciding to be mere observers. The calm façade of Legolas threatened to spill forth if that Gondorian man didn't start showing respect.

"Aragorn? This…is Isildur's heir?" Boromir stared incredulously at Aragorn, who remained seated.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." seethed Legolas. Having to stay calm the entire time Boromir stared down Aragorn, was becoming increasing difficult. A slight shiver down his spine let him know Nimirher was watching him. Would she be surprised by his outburst? Perhaps disgusted because he had just thrown himself out before the men?

"Havo dad, Legolas." If it had been any other man besides Aragorn giving him orders, he wouldn't have bothered to listen. Aragorn was a friend, his faithful companion and a man of power and wisdom. Sighing loudly, Legolas turned, striding back to his seat. Those mysterious brown eyes following every smooth step he took.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." Gandalf braced himself forward with the weight of his staff, his eyes making contact with every face in that room. This storm wasn't even close to ending and the lightning was soon to strike. Quick decisions had to be made.

Elrond stood up from his seat, his renewed presence intimidating all. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?!" The fat dwarf rushed forward, his axe held high, ready to strike. Deep clouds swirled deeper upon their meeting, their lungs feeling the suffocation. His axe fell heavily from it's arc, hitting its' target.

Sparks flew forth from the impact, shards of metal dropping from the sky. Nimirher lost control of her lungs, not finding an ounce of oxygen that was willing to fill her with life. Her eyes lost focus, blurring into an image of a fiery eye.

'Such a waste of power,' it whispered seductively in her ear. A brilliant fork of light sliced through the sky before her, none of the council remained. She kneeled alone surrounded by shadow and flame.

'You will be mine!' Lashing out with his dark tongue, Sauron invaded Nimirhers' body, shoving images into her weakened mind.

Her blood was boiling, hands clenched dank earth as she tried to find reality again. Sauron pushed harder, shoving Legolas upon her subconscious. His body lay twisted and mangled beneath her feet, maniacal laughter escaping her lips in victory.

Throwing herself up, she pressed her hands tight against her ears and screamed. Screamed for the suppression of Saurons' fury, screamed for the broken body of Legolas, screamed for someone to save her.

Gandalf had tried to awaken the shuddering girl as she convulsed in her chair. Her eyes wide, bleeding completely black, leaving no trace of the girl they had seen earlier in her wake. "Nimirher!" The old wizards attempts grew feeble as she continued to mumble the jumbled speech of Mordor.

Lightning suddenly forked through their dark sky as her body flung forward. Legolas rushed forward catching her briefly before he was forced to set her back down upon the earth. His hands stinging with the siring pain of her heated skin. Her crouched body held stiff to the ground, her head bowed while flame crawled aggressively across her limbs.

"Nimirher!" Gandalf shouted yet again, rushing to her side. Legolas still stood feet from her, transfixed upon the burning girl still muttering the Black Speech. Gandalf seemed to be the only one able to stand the heat from her fire, his hands tight against her temple as he chanted.

Her flame grew higher with each word falling from her lips, threatening to destroy the woods around them. Silence fell suddenly, shrouding all in deep shadows. It was then that Nimirher threw her head back and screamed. Screamed with everything in her, pushing Gandalf back from the sheer force.

Legolas yet again rushed forward to help her. Her lips slammed shut, breaking the spell that had fallen upon all of them, falling forward into his arms, unconscious.


	6. The Tears We Cry

Nimirher found herself hiding in the woods, spending her time sitting by a small stream. It ran through the land of Imladris, eroding the soil away slowly. Just like the insignificant body of water before her, her life was eroding a new path, cutting away at her old memories. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't afraid.

Shifting her feet impatiently, Nimirher kicked a few pebbles, abandoning them to drown in the swirling water. The last three days she had been unconscious her dreams played with her mind. The vicious nightmares threatened her limbs, willing her body forward, daring her to accept her dark side. She was so angry, frustrated at the Gods for giving her such a cryptic future. Saruman had fed her nothing but lies, making her believe she was made for something more in this world. All she could see was a future of death.

Talagor nickered somewhere off to her right. She hadn't spent much time with her friend since being housed in the land of Elves. She had missed his intelligence and spontaneity. Walking over to the black beast, she stroked his coat lovingly. Smiling, Nimirher continued to stroke his mane, relishing in the feel of the soft hair. The black tangles weaved in and out of her fingers, flowing like water. The midnight shine had always captured her attention, but now the color seemed to change right before her eyes. Black suddenly lightened, turning paler. Her eyes widened, suddenly remembering her dream from the other night.

It had been so different from the other nightmares that had plagued her mind. Gone was the fire, gone were the screams of the dying, and gone was the crippled body of Legolas. Instead she remembered a meadow growing wild with weeds, a gentle breeze playfully teasing her hair and soft earth beneath her boots.

_ Nimirher pressed her hands tighter against her ears, hoping to drain out the screams. She could feel the blood on her hands, staining the pale flesh. Breathing in and out she tried counting, hoping to block out the images. Rough hands pulled at her skin, marking her skin, branding her as the devil. She squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the inevitable end. _

_ The severed screams stopped and she waited for the eye of Sauron to evade her mind. The sweltering heat of her fire gave way to a gentle breeze. Opening her eyes Nimirher found herself alone, waist deep in a field of tall grass and flowers. She spun around violently, searching for the devious smile of Saruman. She waited for him to rip her away from this haven, away from sun and to shadow. _

_ The meadow stood empty behind her, the weeds swaying side to side. No bodies stalked high into mounds to burn. Puzzled, Nimirher glanced down to her hands. Her palms stared back at her, pale and unblemished._

_ " I won't let them hurt you." Nimirher stood transfixed to the woods in front of her, daring herself not to turn around. She recognized that voice, she could find him in any crowd. His sultry tones fell down her back, caressing the covered skin as if she were exposed. Slowing rotating around, Nimirher found herself face to face to Legolas. His broad shoulders blocked the sunlight, his eyes suddenly becoming the main focus. Normally stoic, his blue orbs brewed a relentless storm. The intensity sent shivers down her spine. _

_ "What?" she could only manage a small whimper. His elf ears would be strong enough to notice the slight tremor in her voice. His power was drawing her in, making it difficult for her to remain strong._

_ Legolas stepped forward, his body engulfing her small frame. Everything about her body invited him in, everything about her told him she wanted him. His fingers twitched by his side wanting to wrap themselves in her brown locks. His fingers brushed her cheek, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His breath hitched in his throat, the brief contact with her skin, lighting his skin on fire. "I won't let them hurt you."_

"Lady Nimirher?" Nimirher snapped out of her daydream. She was still in Rivendell playing with Talagors' black mane. Turning around she found Frodo staring quizzically in her direction. How long had he been calling her name?

"I'm sorry Frodo. I seemed to have drifted off."

"Oh, it's quite alright. Drifting off can be nice." The young hobbit dropped unceremoniously to the ground, taking root next to the small stream that had recently occupied Nimihers' time. His furrowed brow only accented his far off gaze. She could ask him what was wrong, but she already knew. Gandalf had informed her of the fellowships' decision, delighting in the tale of her acceptance amongst the nine men. She had been suspicious of the rash decision, already knowing in her heart it was because they were afraid of her.

"Are you afraid, Lady Nimirher?" Dropping her gaze back to Frodo, she found him chewing his bottom lip vigorously, still staring out into the distance.

"Afraid of what?" Frodo shuffled his body, turning around to give her his full gaze. The troubled hobbit before her trembled with anticipation.

"The unknown." Nimirher abandoned her stance next to Talagor. Crouching down, she embraced the Halfling, relishing in the feel of his small hands clenching her jacket. Fear radiated from his body in waves, chocking her lungs.

"Always," she whispered. Her hand kept his head pressed to hers. She whispered sweet lullabies in his ear while he wept. She had been trying so hard to suppress her own pain that she had forgotten about the real world. The real world in which a tiny Halfling held their fate within his hands. "But so does everyone and you have so many people here to protect you."

She made a promise to herself that day. She would protect Frodo with her life and she would take her own before she let Saruman use her gift against them.

* * *

><p>The trees stood still, silent, their leaves begging for the heavens to open and release the rain it wanted so badly. The sky was ominous, it's dark clouds fighting amongst themselves. Legolas watched from the window as the elves of Rivendell hurried to their rooms, their fear all too easy for him to sense from his high perch.<p>

His jaw twitched around his clenched teeth, his hands already begging for the familiar weight of his bow. He knew why they feared so but their stumbling gaits were not justified. Their unsettling stares glanced briefly to the room below; Nimirhers' room. His patience for these elves was diminishing, he growled low in his throat. They hadn't felt the dead weight of her body as it hung so dangerously still in his arms. They hadn't felt the slow dance of her heart; it's tiny wings barely beating against the bars of her body. The paralyzing fear within his heart as he watched her scream and burn would forever be scorched in his mind.

Glancing down at his hands, he marveled at their certainty. His fingers were still strong, calloused from over the years, but their flesh yearned for so much more now. Their memories remembering the feel of her body. They relished in the feel of her curves beneath the tunic and breeches, the way it felt to brush the hair from her face.

He found himself growing increasingly angry with his thoughts. Curling his hands into fists, he turned his attention to the window once again. These emotions, these feelings were so foreign to him. He knew what lust felt like. He had been alive for far too many years to not recognize the familiar itch of that carnal need. These emotions, though strong, were human in appearance. They distracted him, his eyes needing to roam in her direction every moment he could. His hands wanted one more touch, her body calling upon a divine light that left him speechless.

"Does no man see logic?! She is a danger to the entire fellowship!" Boromir. The man had become increasingly distraught the past hour they had been locked in Lord Elrond's study. He rambled on and on about the dangers Nimirher could pose for their group. As a warrior, Legolas could see the potential threat the young woman brought to their perilous journey. Her powers were out of control. Her previous life had been spent with a traitor. Who was to say that Sauron himself wasn't keeping a watchful eye over her. But Legolas was also an elf with blood that burned for the fiery girl. Without fault of her own, she had managed to captivate him, leaving only Gandalf's word of innocence for the girl the only evidence he needed. The wizard's word had been good to his people, something the Gondorian man refused to take into consideration.

"Boromir, we all know of your concerns but this is the will of Gandalf." Elrond kept his body meticulously folded in his chair. He was a patient man, his actions revealing nothing for Boromir to fret over, but his worry was becoming increasingly evident to both Aragorn and Legolas. His sharp eyes burned with the reflection of Nimirhers' tormented body and he feared for the well being of the fellowship. Gandalf had long since earned his place within his counsel, he would not deny his request.

"The WILL of Gandalf?! Where is the old wizard?" His fevered pacing resembling a trapped warg at this point. With his hands constantly pulling at the loose strands, his hair now stood erect upon his head. The heavy boots of the troubled man continued to hammer over the quiet steps of the elves.

"Gandalf resides with Nimirher right now. He does not need to be here, he has given me his decision. His decision is final Boromir."

Boromirs' lips sneered, his body too rigid and distraught to warrant a response. He brushed his hair rather violently from his eyes before striding out of the room. Lord Elrond let his shoulders slowly drop, his slouched position showing how weary his body truly was. Drawing out a deep breath, his fingers slowly loosened their death grip upon his chair.

"Elrond do not worry about Boromir. His troubles are misplaced but he is a good man. I've spent but three days with Nimirher, her heart is good, she will not stray from this company." Legolas watched as Aragorn placed a gentle hand on the bent shoulder of the tired Lord. His compassion leaked strength into his limp limbs, his back suddenly straightening.

"I am not worried about her straying. She has a strong heart but there is a dark power in her. It is strong and it does not want to lie dormant any longer. I do not know if she is strong enough."

Legolas brought his attention back to the window, his lips still silent. What if she wasn't strong enough? He wasn't sure he could see her body convulsing through such pain again. To imagine her body as only a vessel to her power plagued his mind. He could see her deep brown eyes, empty, the girl completely gone from within. His soul tightened, squeezing the air from his lungs. He knew at that moment that he would protect that woman with his life, to lay it down if it would only spare her more pain.

* * *

><p>"Nimirher you need to concentrate." Gandalf had repeated that montage over and over again for the past couple hours. His soft voice was firm and unrelenting as he paced back and forth. Nimirher's room was slowly becoming a sweltering cavern of burning heat but the old wizard kept going, his staff silently tapping across the wooden floor.<p>

Her eyes never left the pile of cinder in front of her but she could still feel the presence of the taunting wizard behind her. With every turn of his heel, his staff would make soft purpose against her thigh, trying to break her concentration. It had managed to irritate her every time.

Her unladylike behavior reared it's ugly head, her lips throwing out curses every time she failed to set the sparse wood ablaze. Her body already over heating from the effort, sent billowing steam clouds from her tight limbs. The close quarters of her room was slowly growing hotter, tendrils of sweat leaked down the wizards' weathered features.

"I can't Gandalf." Her defeated voice dribbled lazily from her lips, her heavy head suddenly falling limp to her chest. She expelled rapidly through her lungs trying to cool down her scorching skin. Gandalf wouldn't be able to sit within three feet of her yet, her tainted skin projecting a heated barrier.

Exhaling one more time, Nimirher felt the sweet chill of the night air cooling her naked neck and face. Gripping her knees, she prepared herself for the look of disappointment upon her mentors' face. Her tired eyes followed the length of his gray robe past his long beard, making contact with his blue eyes. Eyes that should've held discontent but smiled warmly at her slouched shoulders.

"Nimirher, I am not disappointed in you. You just need to find your courage. The one thing that keeps you fighting."

Nimirher watched Gandalf as he took a seat upon her plush bed, her blankets still disheveled from her morning nightmare. She remembered how erratic your limbs flung about the sheets trying to disentangle herself from her invisible foe. "What is your courage?"

"Family….and love," Gandalf's eyes followed Nimirher's fingers as they twitched incessantly in her lap, "it is the most powerful emotion you will ever feel."

Her fingers stalled, her breath suddenly catching on the persistent memory of the blond elf. He had appeared in her dream that very morning, his head cradled in her lap as she wailed over his dead body. Moisture slowly collected upon her lower lashes, blurring her vision briefly. "And what if I can't find my courage?"

"I have a feeling, in time, that you will." He leaned heavily upon his staff as he lifted his weary body, his feet shuffling slowly towards her door.

"Get some sleep, we leave tomorrow." Smiling to her briefly, he left her behind with more questions than she had answers for.


	7. Finding Courage

Her bag was already packed, it's ragged body slumped peacefully upon her borrowed bed. Nimirher ran her hands longingly over the plush cover, her body already feeling the withdrawal. She hadn't had such luxurious materials staying with Saruman and now her body had been spoiled. Even through the vicious nightmares her limbs had clung so desperately to the covers warmth; as if wishing for a body to cling to.

She groaned, running her hands through her long hair. Her last night in Rivendell had been an interesting one to say the least. Gandalf's persistence that she could be an amazing wizard had ended up just frustrating her further. The tiny pile of cinder he had brought to her room still sat innocently within it's ceramic dish, completely scorch free. Even though she had voiced her concern that she might never be able to control her gift completely, Gandalf had just waved it off. He had no doubts in his mind that she would be brilliant one day. Why couldn't she believe so strongly in herself? Why must her dreams manifest her doubts? She hadn't received a rest from those horrific nightmares. They were beginning to control her limbs making her doubt the little control she already possessed.

Nimirher sat down upon her bed, her mind reeling with her own internal dialogue. Why couldn't she just force her body to ignore them? She already knew that answer, she wasn't strong enough yet. She couldn't push past the death to see the possibility of life. Saruman had made it his goal to make her mentally weak, to put up walls too tall for her to climb. He wanted her to suffer, to question her allegiances. It would make it so much easier for him to finally break her down and make her his; the weapon he so desired.

Clenching her fists, she felt her nails dig deeper into her fleshy palms. She was tired not only physically but emotionally. Tired of feeling like her world was crumbling beneath her feet. Tired of feeling so weak. Day and night she had practiced to make the two wizards in her life proud, proud that a woman could carry the name Istari. She had since felt like nothing short of a failure. Gandalf refused to admit to her face but she saw it in his weathered eyes. A tool, that's all she was ever going to be under the watchful eye of Saruman.

So what if she was meant to be a weapon. She was starting to realize that her fate was not in her hands. She had been chosen to wield an element so destructive and so dangerous. How could she turn her back on something so definitive? She would burn down forces while she laughed in Sarumans face. And she would make Sauron quake within; his nightmares would burn him alive.

"Nim, are you ready?" Startled from her reverie, the woman in question turned around to find her doorway blocked by Aragorn. Gone were the velvet clothes he adorned while in the company of elves, instead his weather worn travel cloak was back. Even through the tiring efforts of skilled elf maidens, his dark uniform still bore the signs of old age and many skirmishes. The pack he held in his hand was filled and ready for adventure.

"Nim? Really? When did we decide on nicknames?"

Aragorn chuckled quietly as he advanced towards her. "Since Nimirher became too much to say all the time. Nimirher, you set a bush on fire again….Nimirher, you're concentrating too hard. The room's getting too hot….Nimirher, you got the hobbits in trouble again."

"Alright I get it!" Throwing her bag, she hoped that the heavier objects would make contact with one of his body parts.

Catching her bag before it even got close to hitting him, Aragorn watched as she quietly laughed to herself. In the brief span they had housed within the house of Elrond, the young woman before him had become a fast friend. Every morning he watched her slowly eat breakfast, her body too weak from lack of sleep to have to function so early in the day. As the deep bruises beneath her eyes began to darken, his concern for her health became more evident. He never received any help from Nim herself; she remained silent about her struggles. Gandalf had provided the only explanation for her distress and while he had wanted to speak with her about the matter, the old wizard made him promise to keep it to himself.

It pained him to watch her isolate herself from a part of their company. Elrond continued to hold council with her; trying to get an idea of her original origins. But most of the elves in Rivendell kept a safe distance from her at all times. Legolas being the only exception and he even seemed to take every measure available to stay away from her sometimes.

He was afraid for her. She dealt with her problems too much on her own. When she refused to talk to anyone, she took off to find the hobbits. They were good for her because they could make her laugh but none of that joy could completely penetrate her pain.

Aragorn watched her as she slowly strapped her blade to her waist; her bow and arrow already perched upon her back. This morning seemed different though. She looked more confident, her body renewed with strength he hadn't seen since she had arrived.

A great horn blew below within the courtyard. Nimirher grabbed her bag from Aragorn, "Well it seems Boromir is ready for battle."

* * *

><p>Nimirher and Aragorn were the last of their company to arrive. Boromir stood off to the side, his scowl present even from the distance she kept between them. The Gondorian man held nothing but hostility towards her, "What took you so long to find your way to us? Even the ring bearer was here before you."<p>

"I was saying goodbye to my bed." The lack of emotion on her face did little to settle his anger. Boromir was determined to make her lose control again. Anything he could find to hold against her would only fuel the fire of uncertainty within his heart.

Skipping past the irritating man, Nim found her way to Sam. The hobbit seemed to be carrying one of the heaviest packs amongst their group. The frying pans still dangling from his bag warmed her heart. It seemed the sweet hobbit still planned to cook them meals while on the road. "Bill looks ready to leave. I think he's more excited for this adventure than anyone else here."

"Yes, he certainly does." Sam slowly stroked the side of the beasts neck, his eyes slightly glossed over.

Nim placed her hand upon his shoulder trying to rely the confidence she felt in her body towards the emotional hobbit, "He's a smart animal Sam. He'll do just fine on this journey. I'm actually more worried about Merry and Pippin."

The two in question stood behind Gandalf, admiring each other's swords. They hadn't had much time to practice with the tiny blades but the prospect of having to use them seemed to excite the pair. Nim had tried to give them lessons while they meandered through the elfish halls but she found it difficult to get those two to focus longer than an hour, "Those two have the attention span of a fish. And you and I both know that that doesn't last very long at all."

She hadn't realized how close he was standing by her until she heard his quiet chuckle from behind. Prince Legolas stood ready by the archway, his back adorned with his bow and quiver. The long handles of his knives stood proud behind his head; he carried no pack.

His mouth remained in a smirk. Her comment about the two hobbits seemed to have amused the elf, "They are trying to name their blades."

The relationship between the two of them, though cordial, remained complicated. When they weren't trying to avoid each other, he was giving her tips on her archery skills. It was during a rather frustrating practice session that he had first spoken with her.

_ "_

_You need to concentrate."_

_ "Thanks for the tip Aragorn." her tone sharp as she stared at the few arrows littering the ground below her intended target. She took a little pride in the two that had managed to embed themselves in the trees behind her practice barrel. At least they were in the general vicinity._

_ Drawing one more arrow from the quiver upon her back, she notched her weapon one more time, "Your grip is too tight."_

_ She hadn't heard that voice since the day of the council. It seemed he had been avoiding her as much as she had been him. She wasn't sure if it was because of the whole body being possessed and set on fire incident but unlike Boromir, the prince held no hostility upon his face._

_ "I am sorry Lady Nimirher. I meant no disrespect."_

_ "Oh…no, you did not disrespect me Prince Legolas. You simply startled me."_

_ The elf prince smiled gently at her. He seemed slightly uncomfortable before her gaze but he slowly approached her anyway. "Your grip is too tight. The bow shifts within your grasp so you keep missing your target."_

_ Nim dropped her gaze to the bow held tightly in her grasp. Her fingers bled white from the pressure she was placing upon the wood. Aragorn's laughter reached her ears as she stared dumbly at her childish mistake, "Shut up, Strider."_

_ The ranger chuckled while he continued to smoke his pipe. Legolas clapped his friend upon the shoulder before he approached the young woman. He hadn't spoken to the girl since he had arrived. The emotions that she invoked within his body were unexpected and unpredictable. Fate played a rather significant role in the history of his people. They believed in the art of destiny and in his many years, he had yet to meet the mate for him. As a prince he was expected to marry amongst his people and amongst his rank. He only assumed that when his body found it's other half then it would be a elf lady of high stature. But for a fortnight, he remembered nothing but the face of the woman struggling before him. No one knew the origins she reigned from, not even Gandalf but he found that the distance he kept trying to keep between the both of them, shortened everyday. _

_ His long legs carried him over to her distraught form. He didn't like the frailty of her figure as she stared down disappointingly. He had watched her practice with both Aragorn and the hobbits before. Fighting with her sword was second nature. Her body would sway effortlessly across the plain, her arm swinging wildly as she parried with the man that had quickly become her best friend. But unfortunately she didn't have much experience with archery, "Your stance is rather good but Aragorn is right when he says you need to concentrate. Try taking a deep breath and exhaling before you release."_

_ Her beautiful face rose up to meet his_; _her cheeks tainted pink from her embarrassment. Nodding slightly in his direction, she notched her bow again; taking heed to his words. Her knuckles loosened; the skin turning back to their original color. Inhaling deeply, she took a few seconds to focus on her target being exhaling and letting it fly. _

_ The quiet thud and beautiful smile upon her face let him know that she finally hit her target. _

Nimirher backed slowly out of her memories, a small smile left upon her face. She hadn't realized she had lost herself to such a moment until she noticed the look left on the prince's face. He said nothing to notify her if he remembered such fond moments as well but she had never seen his eyes so blue before.

A silence fell over the crowd as Elrond slowly descended the staircase. His children followed behind him; their silence fueling the anxiety they were already feeling. Aragorn's stare remained upon Arwen; her eyes glossy with tears she refused to shed in front of him.

Legolas may not of been from the last homely house but he was saying goodbye to his kin. Their journey would take them away from what they knew and into lands far more dangerous than they could imagine. Everything that was familiar to them, anything that they held dear, would have to be left behind. No one knew if they would be coming back.

Elrond stared solemnly upon the group in front of him. He knew the pain his daughter was feeling. She had confidence in his fighting skills but they were even blind to the outcome of this war. The individuals standing so brave before them, were essentially sacrificing themselves.

"Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you."


	8. As If You Were On Fire From Within

Nim stared blankly at the fire crackling before her. It was the first flame they had been allowed to create since leaving Rivendell. It's tiny arms engulfed the timber, blackening it's tough skin. She welcomed the warmth the sun and fire brought her.

Their journey had started on a sullen note; no songs or laughter greeted their ears as they climbed the hills away from Rivendell. The Elves took no chances of their journey being heard from unfriendly ears; from the shadows they whispered their farewells.

Once they passed the river Bruinen, they left the road and turned west along the mountains. The land was more barren and rocky than the wilderness they had left behind. The struggle to scale the landscape proved to be difficult for both Nimirher and the Halflings. Their short statures made it difficult to keep up with the Men in their company. Gimli seemed to make the journey more easily as he was used to more rugged terrain.

For weeks they had slept by day and traveled by night. None knew the land better than the people of Rivendell. They reassured them that spies were rarely spotted; their quest depended highly upon secrecy.

The east brought a bitter wind that several layers of clothing couldn't deter. Clouds continued to cover the sun and Nim wished for an ounce of warmth upon her face as she slept.

It was two weeks into their journey before she got her wish. As the wind finally died down, it took the clouds with it and they were finally greeted with a beautiful sunrise as they rose up upon another hill. The mountain peaks glowed red in the early morning light.

Forty-five leagues had passed between them and Rivendell. No sights of enemy forces had been spotted since their journey had started. Gandalf halted their group upon the sighting of the three mountain peaks, stating a day of rest would suit them well.

Taking a small twig, she poked the dying embers, hoping to elect a little more heat from the dying flame. They had actually been able to include some meat into their morning meal; the energy amongst their group was rising.

"Already bored?" Aragorn plopped down next to her, his hair more disheveled than normal. He reached across her lap to the meal she had been saving for him.

"Well I was elected keeper of your morning meal," Aragorn cocked him an eyebrow at her while he shoved a piece of meat in his mouth, "so yes, I was bored."

"Can't trust those hobbits around food."

"Specifically Merry and Pippin?"

"Precisely," laughed Aragorn. He was appointed to morning watch and when those hobbits were having a hard time adjusting to smaller meals, he had to make sure someone was watching his back.

"How was your watch?" Nim watched him shove the last piece of food in his mouth, his chewing suddenly slowing down as he contemplated his answer.

"The trees are silent out there. Nothing showed their head."

"Yet, you're still worried."

"I've traveled through Hollin for many seasons. People abandoned this land long ago but the birds have done well," Aragorn grabbed dirt and tossed it upon the fire; gently smothering the flames, "I didn't hear any birds on my watch."

"You think it's too quiet?"

"Yeah."

Nimirher turned her attention to the thick shrubbery around them. The land was rather clear of trees so she never really thought of the bird population in the area. They had managed to find an alcove amongst the giant boulders to set up their camp; the dense underbrush providing enough protection from prying eyes. She could only hope that it would be enough for now.

Aragorn shifted down along the ground; his body stretching lazily across the hard surface. Nimirher wasn't sure how they all managed to sleep this morning when the accommodations were so inhospitable. She was counting it down to pure exhaustion on her half; nightmares hadn't even plagued her mind. She was incredibly grateful for that small miracle but she knew it wouldn't last long. The closer they got to the dark land, they would inevitably come back.

She quietly scoffed to herself, 'Well that'll give Boromir another reason to hate me.'

Aragorn's shallow breathing let her know that he was already fast asleep. She had lost the companionship of all four hobbits and Gimli to Gandalf when the subject of his sword, Glamdring, came up. Boromir would rather stab himself than spend any more time than necessary in her company. Fortunately he had afternoon watch which led her to her own devices. Standing up, she brushed dirt from her breeches and slowly stretched her cramped limbs. The pocket pulled tight along her hip; the small fruit long forgotten since her morning chore. She had taken the apple from Pippin earlier when she had caught him stealing extra rations; fully intending to reward Bill.

The stout pony was grazing a few yards from camp, his head barely visible above the tall thistle bushes that surrounded their makeshift camp. Approaching gently, her feet soft upon the earth so she wouldn't startle the creature.

"Hey Bill, I have a treat for you." Upon the word treat, the pony lifted his head and watched as she pulled the red fruit from her pocket. Abandoning his patch of dry grass, Bill swaggered lazily towards her outstretched hand. He was gentle as he took the fruit from her hand; nuzzling her hand affectionately as a thank you.

"He seems to like you." The smooth vibrations of his voice crashed violently against her body like waves along the shore. She hadn't noticed him standing back amongst the shrubbery, his feet perched precariously on the edge of the precipice.

"Isn't Boromir supposed to be on watch?"

"He keeps watch on the other side of camp," his blue eyes turned to stare at her, "My eyes can see further." He still had his bow strapped to his back but his long knives must've been left at camp because she could no longer see them hiding within his blond hair. His body seemed to visibly relax as he continued to stare at her; his arms lowering from their crossed position across his chest, "Did you just come to give Bill his treat?"

She stared down at her empty hand that now only held remnants of the pony's saliva. She had originally come to give the creature some attention since most of her companions had managed to find something to occupy their time. Had she known that the elf would be standing alone along the cliff face, she might have postponed her little trip. His presence made her completely uncomfortable. He elected sensations from her body she hadn't realized she was capable of.

She felt like she was eight years old again when she had feelings for a stable boy that lived near her Gondorian family. Her father had teased her mercilessly on the stuttering conversations she had tried to breach with the young man. She hadn't given up though and she kept trying to get him to notice her. He had essentially ignored her and found better companionship with the flirty advances of her adopted sister.

Twenty-one years old and she was still afraid of the elevated heart rate the elf seemed to produce within her chest. The longer she found herself in his presence, the more she noticed the sweaty palms and lack of breath. The immortal man in front of her was handsome and she felt completely inadequate.

"Come here." His gentle command fell like honey from his lips and she found her attention back to his beautiful eyes. He had advanced a good twenty feet in her direction while she had been distracted by her thoughts. He kept her gaze as he finally stepped up to her; their bodies barely touching.  
>"What?"<p>

"I want to show you something." Gently he slid her hand into his, the calloused palms sliding perfectly against her young skin. Power seemed to flow endlessly between their joined flesh; neither of them feeling a sensation quite like that before.

Legolas gripped her hand tighter as he slowly tugged her forward. Her limbs seeming to have frozen upon contact, as they were having a hard time with basic functions like walking. He needed not have turned his back on her as his feet had the path memorized. He carefully avoided the cliffs' edge, gently leading her back to his watch post.

Her feet willingly followed him along the rocky ledge; eyes still fastened upon his beautiful face. She got within feet of his tiny ledge when fear locked her limbs. She had never been a fan of being far from the ground and Legolas was leading her to a spot that jutted out above the gapping cavern below.

He felt the moment her body locked against him and surrendered to fear. Fingers tightened within his grip as her feet dug deep against the solid earth; seeking a solid platform much farther from the edge he had been coaxing her towards.

He let her slowly drag him farther into the brush before he finally used his strength to halt her progress. Frightened eyes strayed from the edge and shot to his face; her brown orbs committed to the irrational fear that he would let her fall. He did not want to force her; he needed her to trust him.

With a soft tug her body lurched forward, colliding with his solid form. Her human body was not used to the strength of elves and she was surprised that he could move her so effortlessly. "What are you afraid of?"

Words were hard to push past her tongue; her mind completely muddled with the masculine scent of the elf pressed against her body. Shaking her head she took a small step back, perhaps she wouldn't look like a complete idiot if she could utter at least one coherent sentence.

He followed in step with her; his face so close to hers now. "I will not let you fall, you know that." Her head only managed to slowly nod as she was distracted by his heated gaze, "And you know Aragorn wouldn't let me near you if he thought I would hurt you." Again, a nod. "Trust me." One more nod.

This time he did turn his back on her as he led them out of the tangled shrubbery. Creeping slowly along the cliffs edge, he kept his grip firm in her hands; her fear already creeping back into her shaking limbs. This time she did not try to run but followed closer behind him; his calm demeanor seemed to help her.

Approaching his watchmen's ledge, Legolas finally brought her to the location he had been wanting her to see. Standing behind her, he pointed out towards the valley that opened up before her eyes. Nimirher wasn't sure how much time had passed in his company but the afternoon sun was long gone and she watched as the bright evening sun shone upon the mountain ridge. She forgot about her fear as she gazed down the cliff below, the light slowly retracting from the rocks below.

Clouds could no longer keep the dark from approaching and the beginning of stars began to glow. The night mixed lazily with the evening sun; slowly tucking the world of color away until morning. Nimirher watched the world change before her eyes, never noticing the hand she still held in her own, or the other upon her waist keeping her safely from the edge.

"It's beautiful."

* * *

><p>Nimirher shuffled her feet impatiently through the dirt as she stood on her morning watch. She had originally been elated to have a job to do especially one as important as the groups safety, but she was finding it to be just as boring as guarding Aragorn's breakfast. Their camp was still danger free aside from rocks and thorny plants, something Pippin learned the hard way from this morning. She could still see him pulling thorns from his ass between sword lessons.<p>

Her stomach grumbled from the smell of morning breakfast but its glorious sounds couldn't drown out the deep baritone of Gimli's voice behind her. He had spent most of the morning trying to convince Gandalf that paths through Moria would make a faster journey than over Caradhras. She wasn't familiar with either geographical location but Gimli was putting up a convincing argument with warm halls, food, and beer.

"It is for the Dimrill Dale that we are making. If we climb the pass that is called the Redhorn Gate, under the far side of Caradhras, we shall come down by the Dimrill Stair into the deep vale of Dwarves." Gandalf seemed to placate the Dwarf for a while with that statement but Moria eventually crept its way back into their conversation and she could feel the anxiety flowing steadily from the smoking wizard. Nim turned around to stare at the looming Mountain behind her. She was about to become familiar with the true meaning of cold in just a few short hours.

The practiced swings of tiny swordplay was distracting her left ear. After Pippin's failing attempt to save himself from an ass full of thorns, Boromir and Aragorn had decided to spend their afternoon coaching the hyper hobbits on the proper techniques of attacking opponents. It was hard to not laugh at the four of them but her attention needed to be on the land surrounding their camp, which brought an entirely new problem to her attention….Legolas.

She remembered dreaming last night. Amazingly vivid dreams about an elf that wanted to spend far too much attention to the sensations his touch created along her skin. Once she was both frustrated and heated thoroughly, said elf woke her up for her morning watch. She had felt like an idiot staring at his face without a single syllable leaving her lips. She had remembered heat flooding her face as she walked away from his chuckling form. Had she been in her right mind, she might have said something but instead she had to walk away and pretend like nothing was wrong.

No matter how hard she tried, the night beneath the stars with him crowded every corner of her mind. He probably had more than three hundred years of desirable looks and flirty connotations he could throw her way that would only make her feel more like the child that she was. It frightened her to think that he might even have more than a thousand years. It would leave her completely vulnerable to his charm since she didn't seem to have an ounce of her own.

Shifting her gaze back to the South, the easterly wind swept through her jacket, chilling her skin She studied the horizon closely, watching the clouds drift by faster with the bitter wind. Cocking her head to the side, she reflected on the quiet atmosphere around her. Ten minutes ago, she could hear Bill gnawing on the patch of grass behind her while a few struggling rodents fought over rotten vegetables of some kind but now it seemed quieter. The rodents had fled and Bill was distractedly still, his tail no longer swishing from his happy eating.

Her eyes followed the pony's gaze further south, her eyesight straining with the ability to pinpoint his distraction. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out a dark patch flowing against the afternoon wind. "Legolas."

The blond elf had taken watch on the north end of camp. Everything seemed relative undisturbed on his side so he found his attention diverting more towards the south where a certain female was keeping watch. He had watched her go from studious watchful warrior to bored warrior in a matter of a few hours. Her erratic human behavior intrigued him, he found himself laughing more often when it involved her.

Her quiet voice reached him from across camp. Turning around, he noticed her body had grown considerably more rigid as her attention seemed to be focused to the south. She had kept her voice down in hopes of not alarming their group, knowing he'd hear her but as he jumped across boulders to reach her, the rest of their companions grew quiet.

His tall figure loomed over her small frame as he followed her gaze. His keen elf eyes immediately spotted the danger her eyes were still trying to decipher, "Crebain from Dunland!"

Aragorn's shout to hide was heeded from everyone as they scrambled to gather their gear and smother fires. She had barely grabbed her pack when Legolas grabbed her around the waist and swung her towards a series of thick bushes. Protesting had proved futile after she was practically shoved under them by the rough elf.

She laid flat upon the earth, her head staring through her twig canopy, watching as the flock of black birds flew overhead, circling back several times. She settled herself down for a long wait with a man that set her body on fire.

**Hey Guys! Thanks for all of you who have read, favorited, followed, or reviewed this story. You guys really do keep me going and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time!**


End file.
